


Overprotective Pilots

by SamCatsOLD



Series: Tales of Redemption [3]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Edd is done with the world, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Matt is very confused, Mirrors are made of plate glass, Monster Tom, Overprotective gay pilots, Paul and Patryk are just the right amount of protective, Scars, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Tom hates life, Tord comes out of the closet, Tord is a cat, Tord is smol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 09:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamCatsOLD/pseuds/SamCatsOLD
Summary: Paul and Patryk are overprotectivegay parentspilots





	

Tord, who was finally starting to believe that his friends _did_ care, was currently wishing for death. Because of said friends. His fate was literally being decided in a raffle. Would he be stuck with the cinnamon roll, the narcissist or the man who… Tord really didn’t know what Tom was to him anymore. They weren’t _enemies_ , but they weren’t really friends, either.

Would he be stuck with the cinnamon roll, the narcissist or the… frenemy for the next week? Tord was hoping none of the three. He could take care of himself! And he was only _sometimes_ self-destructive!

He had hoped for none of the three. He had definitely _not_ hoped for a possibly worse option to enter the room. An option that was willing and eager to take the responsibility. An option that his friends were surprisingly trusting of. Yep, Tord _definitely_ wanted to die.

But the universe wasn’t that kind, it seemed. He was dragged to the apartment across the hall and locked in with the two people he wanted to be locked in with the least. Mostly because they were constantly being sappy, which was one of Tord’s most hated things.

Which was why he had locked himself in the small room at the back of the apartment, hissing loudly whenever someone tried to open the door. Which, thankfully, wasn’t often.

Tord had hoped that after the first day he could beg his friends to let him stay with them instead. But Matt hadn’t opened his door; Edd’s did open, but there was a note on the table saying something about going somewhere with Matt; and Tom… the door had opened, so Tord had looked around the apartment, but hadn’t found the eyeless man anywhere. After a while he’d found the bedroom door, only to hear growling from behind it.

That crossed Tom off the list of possibilities.

Also, Tord was getting worried. That was twice in one month.

But that would have to wait because _they were trying to open the door again!_

“Go away!” Tord yelled, leaning against the door, just in case the lock somehow failed.

The simple request was met with a torrent of “we’re worried about you” and “your friends want to know if you’re okay” and “you haven’t eaten in two days”. You know, the things that overprotective ~~gay parents~~ pilots always say to you after you lock yourself in a room for two days!

Speaking of which, Tord was getting hungry. But he would not give in! At least to Paul and Patryk. There was nothing weak about giving in to yourself. It was the only way to win a mental argument, after all. It was also why, after his overprotective ~~gay parents~~ pilots had left, he unlocked the door and snuck into the hall. Staying silent in case they were still in the apartment, he crept into the kitchen and began to look around. After one smashed glass, he deduced that his overprotective ~~gay parents~~ pilots were _not_ home.

And, as it was with all kitchens, the goodies were hidden on the highest shelf. Okay, so Tom might have had a point. _Might_ have. In the end, he had resorted to dragging a chair into the room and balancing atop it. In his defence, the highest shelf was only about a foot away from the roof.

He’d stopped by the fridge almost as an afterthought.

Tord had returned to his room with a bottle of water and, his prize find, a plate of cookies.

* * *

“ _Why is there glass everywhere?_ ”

Tord paused mid-bite. He put the plate carefully on the floor, stood up, walked over to the door and locked it.

Then he sat back down and continued eating.

* * *

“Tord, please come out!”

“Never!”

* * *

This was not how Edd had expected to spend his day. He’d expected that he would get home, sit down and relax for a while. He did _not_ expect to end up locked in a room with an enraged tiny communist cat with a robot arm. Not that he wasn’t enjoying the company and cookies – mostly the cookies – but he didn’t appreciate being locked in a room.

“So, uh, Tord?”

“Hmm?”

“When are you going to let me out?”

“Oh, I never locked the door. I just said that because I wanted company.”

“Why not just go outside and talk to Paul and Patryk?”

“Because they’re making out in the kitchen!”

“Last I checked they were holding hands.”

“Exactly!”

It was definitely not how Edd had expected, or _wanted_ to spend his day.

* * *

“So… what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Just try and get him out of there, please.”

“Okay… um, hi, Tord!”

“Go away!”

“No! We’re worried about you!”

“Edd and Paul and Patryk said the same thing, but I didn’t waver!”

“What?”

“I’ll never come out!”

“What about to eat? Or to use a mirror? You must look dreadful by now.”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t care!”

“How can you not care about your looks?”

“Because they’re already ruined!”

“Tord, a few scars won’t ruin your looks.”

“It’s more than a few!”

“Tord-”

“Go away, Matt!”

“At least unlock the door.”

“Never!”

* * *

Tord yelped and jumped backwards, knocking his head against the wall, as the door suddenly flew open. There was the distinctive sound of the lock snapping off, as well as a low ringing in his ears. He looked towards the doorway, where an eyeless man in a blue hoodie was glaring at him.

“I do not need to be interrupted because you’re being self-destructive again.” Tom stated, his anger thinly veiled. “Especially when I am using all of my strength to stop myself from killing my friends.”

Oh. _That’s_ why Edd had said his actions had been selfish.

“I’m going to go tear up my apartment now. Tell the others I’m out getting drunk or something.”

Tord was left alone in the room for a moment before Paul and Patryk ran in, going from dignified people who had asked his friend for help to the overprotective ~~gay parents~~ pilots he knew ~~and loved~~.

* * *

Tord was splayed out on the couch, burying his face into one of the cushions and trying to drown out the sounds of Paul and Patryk flirting in the next room. Or, as Edd had called it, having a normal conversation.

After leaving the safety of the room, the first thing his overprotective ~~gay parents~~ pilots had done was make him a meal. Appreciated but unnecessary; Tord could survive perfectly well on a plate of cookies!

At some point the talking stopped, so Tord raised his head and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His shoulder itched. He reached for it, but nothing happened. Frowning, he glanced down at his arm. Or lack of one.

“Faen!”

* * *

Not eager to lose his arm for a third time, Tord tried not to use it too much after Paul had reattached it. Which led to a couple awkward moments. Including multiple smashed glasses and one incident with the fridge door. Eventually Tord decided to just use it sparingly.

* * *

Tord was considering getting Tom to play a song just so that he could sing about wanting to die. Or maybe smashing another glass and proclaiming, “I wish I was that glass!”

But no, that would be too risky. And smashing another glass would just be inconvenient.

Surprisingly, staring at the small mirror above the bathroom sink made Tord think of Matt. Or, more accurately, what Matt had said about his looks. He looked first to the scars on his cheek. Rather ironic; they were the least damaging and yet the most noticeable. The skin around them had at some point returned to its normal colour, so it really just looked as if someone had scratched him now. He looked at his left arm next, rolling up his sleeve to see the thin scar that ran along the side of it. Tom was a really good shot with a harpoon gun.

Tord took a deep breath and looked at the right side of his neck. Thick scars ran along and down it, thinning towards his chin and disappearing into his hoodie at his shoulder. He took the edge of his hoodie in one shaky hand, trying to shift it to see more of the damage. But he couldn’t. He bailed at the last moment, leaning forwards and gripping the sink tightly, his knuckles turning white on his left hand and the sink cracking beneath his robotic right.

After a minute or so he backed away, looking back to the mirror. It took all of his willpower to turn away, unlock the door and walk into the hall. But he’d never had that much willpower.

* * *

Ten minutes later he was sitting on the couch, shaking, staring at the floor while Paul fussed with some bandages and Patryk carefully removed shards of plate glass from his left hand.

And, though he would never admit it, maybe, just maybe, he was glad that Paul and Patryk were overprotective.

**Author's Note:**

> Tord just came out of the closet ;)
> 
> I'm sorry I'll just let myself out.


End file.
